


A Forest Hunt

by franscats



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Gen, Spook Me Multi-Fandom Halloween Ficathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 07:29:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16403984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/franscats/pseuds/franscats
Summary: Jim and Blair decided to try fishing in a remote area.  What they find is an ancient evil.





	A Forest Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> This was done for the Spook Me Multi-Fandom Halloween Fication.  
> The creature - a Wendigo

“This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and hemlocks,” Blair intoned as he glanced around the densely wooded area. “Longfellow knew what he was talking about when he described the forest in the poem Evangeline.”

Beside Blair, Jim nodded seeming distracted as he looked around, his eyes scanning the area thoughtfully and Blair could sense Jim didn’t seem entirely comfortable. “Is something wrong,” he asked quietly.

“I know we ended up with a long unexpected weekend and wanted to get out of the city and not to one of our usual fishing holes but,” Jim paused and shook his head. “There’s just something not right about this place.”

“Not right?” Blair questioned turning to gaze at his friend concern evident. “Is it something your senses are picking up?”

Jim paused and shrugged. “I’m not sure. This place feels wrong and I don’t hear the things you expect to hear in a forest. It took me a couple of minutes to realize it but I don’t hear birds, small animals or insects. It’s too quiet and the air is oppressive. There’s no breeze.”

Blair glanced around and then up at the sun filtering through the roof of tree branches. It was late afternoon and the sun was getting lower, shadows starting to fall over the grass. There would only be another hour or so of light available.

Jim and Blair had hiked up from a parking lot a few miles down the trail. They had hoped to spend the autumn weekend camping and fishing a bit of a distance from the sometimes populated usual park area. “Maybe, we should head back down the trail. It will be dark soon and if there’s something wrong with this area that’s affecting your senses, I’d rather not be caught out here at night.”

Jim glanced around again and Blair expected him to argue so he was surprised when Jim nodded his agreement. “I think we should head down,” Jim agreed, straightening the large pack on his back. “Come on, Chief.” Jim turned back the way they had come.

Glancing around nervously as he turned to head back down the way they had come, Blair wondered what had upset Jim’s senses. Whatever it was, it had to be bad.

They hiked in silence for a while trying to make the most of the fading light. The cracking of small twigs beneath their feet the only noise as they headed down the trail. The light was quickly fading making the trees look sinister and twisted as they continued down but Jim slowed down knowing Blair couldn’t see as well in the dusk light as he could.

They were about half way down the trail when Jim stopped and moving off the trail crouched down. “What is it, Jim?” Blair asked, his voice sounding like a shout in the oppressive silence even though he was whispering.

“Something ripped this animal apart but didn’t eat it,” Jim answered looking over a dead deer. “This deer wasn’t killed for food.”

“Maybe whatever killed the animal was going to eat it but then got scared away.”

Jim stood and looked around, his eyes searching the forest. “The body is still warm. This didn’t happen that long ago,” he answered.

Blair opened his mouth to answer when a loud shriek pierced the silence. “What the hell was that?” Blair asked. Seeing Jim wince and knowing Jim’s senses were wide open, Blair put a hand on his arm. “Take a deep breath,” he instructed.

Jim did and then spun looking about. “Chief, we need to move now,” he instructed and Blair straightened.

“What it is?”

“I don’t know but… but it’s death and it is coming towards us. We need to get out of here, now.”

Blair, deciding this was not a good time to question Jim, reached into the front pocket of his backpack grabbing a flare in shaking hands. “Most animals are afraid of fire,” he whispered as Jim grabbed his arm and started forward at a fast pace. “We’ll light it if this thing, whatever it is, gets closer.”

“Good idea,” Jim agreed. “Hold onto me and I’ll lead us out of here. I can still see.”

Jim pushed forward and they traveled quickly, Jim leading Blair around large branches and rocks as he headed down towards the path. They’d gone about two miles when Jim slowed and glanced back. “Whatever it is, it’s not following us any longer.”

“It was following us?” Blair asked feeling sick.

“Yeah, but it’s gone now.” Jim took a breath and looked around. “I think we need to get to the truck. We can head down to that small trading post and motel we passed on the way up and stay there. No one else was up this way so we don’t have to worry about whatever it was hurting someone else tonight and tomorrow morning we can see if we can figure out what the hell is up there.”

Blair agreed and they started forward again, Jim once again, leading Blair around obstacles. A little later, in total darkness, Jim led Blair into the parking lot and, dropping their packs in the truck, climbed in heading down the road, stopping when they reached The Forest Inn.

Climbing out of the truck they made their way into the motel/store and up to the counter where an old man with weathered skin and a tied back ponytail of white hair sat, a rifle across his knees. “Good evening,” Blair smiled, ignoring the rifle. “We’re hoping you have a room we can use tonight.”

The old man looked over the pair and after a moment’s thought put the rifle aside and nodded. “It’s awful late for you to be getting here,” he said as he stood.

“We were up by the old camping site but decided we wanted to sleep in beds,” Blair answered and the old man nodded.

“Spooked you out, did it?”

“That’s happened with other people?” Blair asked as Jim filled out and signed the motel form.

“Some,” the old man answered. “The smart ones anyway.” He took the paper, collected Jim’s money and handed him a key. “If you need some dinner there’s a small diner up the road. The special tonight is beef stew and it’s pretty good.”

“Thanks,” Jim answered. “I noticed you had a rifle on your knees. Do you expect trouble up here?”

“You never know what might try and come in. Best to be ready.”

“Well, thanks. We’ll drop off our stuff and go try that stew.”

Jim headed for the door, Blair following thoughtfully.

The room was small, rustic being the word that came to Blair’s mind and in need of airing out but clean. Jim and Blair each dropped stuff on one of the two beds and going back to the truck drove down the road to a small neon lit diner. They walked in to the almost empty diner and the man behind the counter waved to them. “Pick a table,” he said. “As you can see I’m not very busy tonight,” he added as he carried over glasses, cutlery and menus.

“Evening,” Blair smiled. “I hear the beef stew is good tonight.”

The man smiled and nodded. “John Little Deer up at the motel must have sent you. He likes my stew.”

“I’ll have the stew and beer,” Jim handed back the menu without looking at it.

“I’ll have the same,” Blair added and the owner nodded.

“I’ll be back in a minute with your drinks and some water.” He walked off to fill the order.

“John Little Deer,” Blair repeated the name. “Native American I’d guess, maybe Chinook. They settled in this area.” Blair paused and glanced around before adding quietly, “Did you notice he didn’t mention who might try and come in but what might try and come in.”

“I did notice that,” Jim admitted.

“What did you see when we were in the woods?”

Jim looked down finding the table very interesting. Reaching out he picked up his napkin unfolding the paper and placing it in his lap and then glanced at the diner’s owner who was coming over carrying two large frosted mugs of beer and a pitcher of water. “Here you go,” he put down the drinks. “I’ll have the stew out in just a couple of minutes. The missus is getting it ready.”

“Thanks,” Blair smiled and Jim nodded and then when the owner left Blair turned back to Jim. “Jim?”

“It was dark, Sandburg, and the shadows can make you see things that aren’t there.”

“You’re a sentinel. You can see in the dark. Don’t second guess yourself. What did you see?” Blair insisted.

“You are going to think this is crazy,” Jim warned and Blair waved his hand indicating Jim should continue. “It looked like a skeleton walking on two legs, but with the head of a coyote, large claws and very large teeth. And it smelled like rotting flesh.”

Jim waited for Blair to laugh or tell him he was crazy but Blair frowned. “Have you ever heard of a wendigo.”

“No,” Jim shook his head.

“The wendigo was a creature in Native American legend who had once been human but had turned to cannibalism and was then cursed and became a monster. The creature has been described as a skeletal monster looking to eat human flesh. It’s always hungry for human flesh and has sharp teeth and claws and a long snout. What you just described sounds like a wendigo. I’ve never heard legends of them in the Pacific Northwest but I have heard legends of the wendigo in Montana. Not that far a stretch.”

“Chief, that’s a legend,” Jim answered and then paused as the beef stew arrived. The food smelled great and was filled with chunks of beef and vegetables and came with large pieces of crusty bread for dunking. Sniffing the food, Jim seemed to relax as he the comfort food was put down in front of him.

“Thanks this looks great,” Jim picked up a piece of bread and dunked it in the stew. The owner nodded and then left and Jim turned back to Blair. “How can something like that be traveling around and why wouldn’t someone have seen it?”

“I don’t know,” Blair admitted, “but I think after dinner I’m going to see if John Little Deer knows any local legends.”

“You think this could really be a wendigo?” Jim asked and not waiting for an answer added, “And if it is out there, how the hell do we stop it?”

Blair didn’t answer but turned to his beef stew thoughtfully.

After dinner and a dessert of homemade cherry pie, Jim and Blair made their way back to the motel and while Jim went in to their room Blair made his way to the office.

“Hi,” he greeted as he walked in and noted that the rifle was once again across the man’s knees. “The beef stew was really good.”

“Good, I’m glad you enjoyed It,” the old man answered gingerly moving the rifle onto the counter.

“Are you John Little Deer?” Blair asked and the man nodded. “I was wondering if you knew anything about local legends.”

“Sure, I’ve lived here for eighty five years and I am a Chinook.”

“Are there any legends of the wendigo here?”

“The wendigo – the demon that eats human flesh. Yeah, there are local legends of the wendigo. Your friend saw it, didn’t he? He’s a sentinel and you are his guide and a shaman.”

“How? What?” Blair paused shaking his head and the old man laughed.

“I come from a long line of medicine men. I see spirits. You have the spirit of a wolf and the sentinel; he has the spirit of a black jaguar. You two were sent here to kill the wendigo,” he said with conviction.

He stood and walking into the backroom returned with a jug and two glasses. Pouring two glasses of clear liquid, he indicated Blair should pull up a chair. “You do know a wendigo’s heart is made of ice. The only way to kill it is with fire.”

“Why is it here?” Blair asked lifting and tasting the alcohol. He coughed as the strong drink burned its way down his throat and quickly put the glass down.

“Every year at harvest time it comes. From the harvest full moon till the Yule it hunts the forest around here. If you listen you can even hear its shrieks at night. We’ve had people disappear up here, campers that supposedly got lost in the woods but no one ever finds the bodies. After the Yule it’s gone until the next year.”

“But why does it come and why does it leave?”

John Little Deer sighed and added more to the two glasses. “I can tell you the legend but whether or not it is true who can say,” he answered indicating Blair should drink. “At the beginning of the last century there was a trapper. He may have come down from Canada, I don’t know but he wanted a woman to cook for him and he kidnapped a young Chinook woman and took her to wife.

“Legend has it he kept her chained in his cabin so that she couldn’t run away and used her to cook and for other things. In the fall, just at the harvest moon, there was a great storm or so the legend goes. It was one of those freak storms that come up once every five hundred years and everything died covered with the early snow. The animals fled south and the trapper searched further and further for food each day. Finally the day came when he found none and he returned to the cabin where the woman was chained. Unable to go to the Chinook for help since he had stolen one of their tribe and unable to find food; he killed the Chinook woman and lived off her flesh between the harvest moon and the Yule. The Chinook then found him and killed him for his evil but since then he has become a wendigo and haunts these woods from harvest to the Yule.” The old man paused and glanced at Blair. “He eats only human flesh and appears at this time every year and hunts until the Yule.

“To kill him, you must set fire to him. Many have encountered him and died becoming food for him. But the sentinel can hear him and see him from afar and the sentinel can kill him. The spirits have sent you to guide him that he might destroy the wendigo and you must do this soon – before he feeds and becomes stronger.”

Blair took a deep breath and let the air out slowly. “Jim already said he is going back into the woods tomorrow to find the wendigo before it can hurt someone.”

“That sounds like a sentinel. In the morning I will give you what you need to deal with the wendigo. You should rest tonight. You will need to be sharp.”

Blair nodded and stood, his eyes moving around the room and settling on the shotgun. “Do you keep the shotgun here as protection against the wendigo?”

The old man nodded. “It gets stronger when it eats and gains more territory. One year just before the Yule it had eaten enough so that it came down from the forest and I shot it. The shot did not kill it but the shot kept it from entering my place. I keep the rifle ready in case.”

Blair looked out at the dark. “I better get back to Jim.”

“Go straight there. It is early in the season. The wendigo has not eaten yet but it’s not a good idea to go unarmed around this place.”

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Blair answered uneasily and walked out the door.

It wasn’t all that far from the motel door to the cabin he was sharing with Jim, just a few hundred feet, but Blair could feel the darkness close around him like a black cloak as he started down the gravel path. It seemed very quiet and he picked up his pace as he went forward all the while trying to look unafraid even as his heart started beating fast. He was just within sight of the door when an inhuman screech pierced the night and he froze for a second looking around, gasping. He didn’t know how he knew but he was sure the wendigo was close and that the wendigo knew he and Jim were going to hunt it.

Taking a deep breath, he took a tentative step forward when rustling in the bushes far off to his right caught his attention. He could smell something fetid in the air and he could almost feel hot breath on him. Turning he looked around but could only see darkness and then Jim was opening the motel door, stepping out, gun in hand, the yellow light from inside creating a path. “Sandburg,” Jim called, heading towards him. “Get in here.”

Blair didn’t need to be told again and not looking around made a dash into the motel room, Jim right behind him. Jim closed and locked the door and then looked at Blair. “You okay?”

Blair nodded. “It is a wendigo and it was out there, wasn’t it?” he asked seeing Jim holding his revolver.

“Something was out there,” Jim agreed putting an arm around Blair’s shoulders and pulling him close for a quick hug. “It’s gone, just no more traveling on your own while we are here.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Blair took a few breaths and Jim released him and put his gun down on the small table in the room, putting the safety on.

Blair took another deep breath feeling some of the tension leave him. He was safe with his sentinel, and Jim would hear that thing long before it got near. He sat down on one of the beds and glanced at Jim. “The old man told me there is a legend of a wendigo in this area. He said we were sent by the spirits to hunt it. He said it would take a sentinel to kill it because a sentinel can see it from a distance.” Blair watched Jim frown but before Jim could ask anything Blair added, “He is a medicine man. He can see our spirit guides and he told me how to kill it.”

Jim rubbed his face wearily and sat down beside Blair. “Judge Adler in the Cascade appellate division has a saying he uses when he explains the law, ‘in for a penny, in for a pound.’ I guess I’m in. How do we kill it?”

“Fire,” Blair whispered.

“So, you were right when you grabbed the flare,” Jim pointed out.

“I was working on instinct, man, just trying to find a weapon.”

“Right, you were working on your instincts as a shaman.”

“I…I never thought of that,” Blair gave a tentative smile and then sobered as he glanced at the closed curtains that covered the window. “It knows we are coming for it. And John Little Deer said he’d give us some supplies in the morning to hunt it.”

Jim nodded soberly and Blair recounted the legend of the trader and the Chinook.

“I wonder if we could use flaming arrows to kill the thing,” Jim stated when Blair finished. “That way we keep some distance.”

“In other legends I’ve heard of wendigos being killed that way,” Blair answered. “Are you any good with bows and arrows?”

Jim nodded, not boasting, merely stating fact.  “I spent eighteen months with the Chopec. I learned very quickly how to hunt with bows and arrows so I could become part of their hunting parties.”

“Good,” Blair answered and glanced around. “You should get some rest. We are going to have to rely on your senses tomorrow.”

“And I’m going to have to rely on you. I think we should both get some sleep. It’s gone.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah,” Jim shrugged and headed for the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Jim was up early the next morning, checking his weapon and sorting what was in his backpack. He was planning on leaving most of the stuff at the motel. He wasn’t going to weigh himself down while on the hunt. When Blair woke he sat up and looked around.

“Morning,” he called out before heading into the bathroom. Coming out dressed and ready for the day, he glanced over at Jim. “We should see John Little Deer and then get some breakfast before we head out.”

“Okay but we need to make it quick. I really don’t want to be out stumbling around looking for it in the dark.”

Blair nodded and the pair went to the motel office. John Little Deer was sitting in the same spot, the only difference the rifle was within reach but not in his lap.

“Morning,” he said as they walked in and indicated a small pile near the door. There were arrows in a quiver, a tightly strung bow, matches, lighters, lighter fluid, kerosene and flares. “Those are things you will need. Fire will kill the wendigo.”

“How do we find it?” Blair asked as Jim examined the bow.

“It does not like the light of day. It will hide in the caves near the river.” John Little Deer looked at Jim. “You will smell it and know where it is. But do not be in the caves after dark. It will have its most power there.”

Jim nodded his understanding and put the quiver on his back adjusting it as Blair took the other materials.

“Hopefully, you will be successful and will return tonight. If you do, I will buy you a steak dinner,” the old man added and then handed Blair a small leather pouch tied with a very long string. “This is a talisman. I made it last night. Perhaps it will help you. Wear it.”

“Thank you,” Blair took the pouch and put it around his neck and the hunters set off on their quest.

It took Jim and Blair almost three hours to hike up to the riverbank. It was cool there with the sun reflecting on the water as they made their way upstream heading in the direction of the caves. Stopping for a quick snack that Blair had packed, Jim looked about, his eyes scanning the area. “Do you see anything out of the ordinary?” Blair asked and Jim shook his head no. “Do you smell anything?”

Jim paused and then nodded. “A hint of smell,” he answered. “I noticed it as we approached the water but nothing like what I smelt last night. I think we still have a ways to go.”

Standing Jim adjusted the quiver and hefted the bow before glancing upstream and dialing up his sight. “There are some caves in the distance,” he told Blair. “But we are going to have to do some climbing to get to them. Nothing that looks too strenuous.”

Blair nodded and the two set off again. Two hours later, as they neared the entrance, Jim paused and shook his head. Blair could see he was pale and sweating. “Jim, what’s wrong?”

“The smell, it’s causing a migraine.” Blair nodded his understanding. He could smell something rotting so he imagined it had to be one hundred times worse for Jim.

“Dial down smell. I think we can find this thing without it,” Blair answered and glanced around and then down at the small bag John Little Deer had given him. Opening it, he took a sniff and smiled at the scent of lavender and rosemary. “I want you to relax a minute and take a light sniff of what’s in this bag. It might help clear you senses and ease the headache.”

Jim did as instructed and closed his eyes letting the scent clear out the rotting smell. “Thanks,” he glanced around. “Let’s get a move on it, it is getting late.”

Blair nodded and they made their way up the rocky ledge until they stood just outside a cave. Blair found himself holding his hand over his nose, glad Jim could dial down smell, as Jim readied an arrow. “Chief, I need you to light a flare and then wrap some rags around these arrows.”

“Jim can you see it?” he asked. To Blair the cave seemed a dark hole.

“Yeah, it…it is there by the back.” Not sure he wanted to see the wendigo, Blair did as instructed and Jim doused the rags with some kerosene. Handing Jim the first arrow, he waited till Jim readied it against the bow and when Jim nodded he touched the flare to the arrow setting it on fire. The arrow shot out into the dark of the cave and a second later Blair heard an inhuman scream as Jim fitted the second arrow.

“Quick, Chief, it’s trying to get out.” With shaking hands, Blair touched the flare to the second arrow and Jim shot it into the cave.  Again, there was an inhuman shriek.

Jim was already fitting a third arrow and Blair could hear movement inside the cave as he used the flair to light the arrow. “Should I douse more arrows,” he asked and Jim shook his head as the third arrow flew. Oddly, there was no shriek this time only a stumbling noise. “Jim?” he asked quietly and Jim took the flare from Blair.

“I think it’s dead,” he said softly, “but I have to go in and check.”

“Wait,” Blair answered and took more rags wrapping them around arrows and dousing them with the fluid. “Let’s be ready.”

“You don’t have to come in,” Jim whispered but Blair shook his head.

“You are not going in there alone,” he answered.

“Okay, have the arrows ready,” Jim answered and the two inched into the cave. About five feet back there was a dark shape on the ground and Jim indicated Blair should light the arrows as they came close.

It was just as Jim had described a white boned skeletal thing with prominent claws and teeth and the head of a coyote. Embedded in its chest, were three smoldering arrows. As they came closer, it tried to raise its head, reaching out but fell back to the cave floor. Stopping out of reach of the creature, Jim took the arrows lighting them and threw them onto the creature. It gave one last scream and went still.

“It's dead,” Jim whispered into the silence.

“We have to make sure,” Blair answered opening the kerosene can and tossing fluid all over the creature. Taking a step back, he took the flare and tossed it onto the creature. There was no movement and they stood, sentinel and guide, watching the flames until only powder remained on the cave floor.

“It’s over,” Jim said at last. “The air has changed and the sounds of the forest have changed.” Blair agreed. Everything felt lighter, easier. Breathing was easier too. “We should head back. We can still get back near dark and I want that promised steak dinner with lots of butter and potatoes-“

“You got it,” Blair cut in. “I think today we both earned an artery chocking meal,” they set off at an easy pace and made their way back to Jim’s truck.

“Sandburg,” Jim said as they walked. “Maybe, in the future, we should stick to our usual fishing holes. I really don’t want to go hunting wendigos again.”

“John Little Deer said the spirits sent us to kill the wendigo. It is odd that we picked a time and place when and where we don’t normally fish and that we both ended up with a long weekend off.”

“Well, I don’t want to be sent anywhere else. We have enough to do in Cascade,” Jim answered getting in the truck and heading straight for the motel. When they arrived John Little Deer was sitting at the counter but the rifle was nowhere in sight.

He smiled as they walked in and stood. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he said putting a sign on the door that said gone to dinner. “You’ve killed the wendigo and I am buying you dinner.”

As the three headed for Jim’s truck, Blair glanced at the old man and then reached from around his neck to hand the old man the leather pouch. “It helped,” he said thinking it cleared Jim’s head so he could function and the old man nodded.

“Keep it. Consider it a gift from one shaman to another. Let us go and get dinner. Tonight we celebrate.”

In a great mood they went to the diner and ordered their steaks and beer and Blair and Jim couldn't remember ever having a steak that tasted that good.


End file.
